By a single. Marrieds are welcome. More than issues of singleness. No man bashing or bitter single woman content.

Author: TheSingleSide

I admit to not enjoying exercise. Every time I walk or do abs I have to have a conversation with myself that goes something like this:

Me: You’ll be glad you did it.
Me: Ok, I’ll do it.

So, when Me talks Me into it (and sometimes me doesn’t) I never fail to be glad I did. A sense of accomplishment, stress relief, better sleep, and that I actually did something I know to be beneficial. These are some of the win-wins.

Physical exercise is a convenient metaphor for another type of exercise that hasn’t always come so easily. The exercise of joy. Huh? Isn’t joy something you either have or you don’t? As with our physical bodies, our joy muscles have to be worked.

Here are several I include in my regular joy workout that you may find helpful.

I am not any less or any more capable of joy than the next person. Like it or not, we all have problems. I used to think certain people were gifted optimists and I was doomed to struggle with a negative outlook Right there I was declaring myself disadvantaged, so why even try . This is an equal playing field. Anyone can decide to participate.

Joy is something I choose. Imagine a wet cold day. Two people are walking with umbrellas to their destination. They both get soaked on the way by an annoying unthoughtful driver who pummels right through the “river” conveniently located next to the sidewalk they are on. One grumbles the rest of the day. The other sees it as a “good story” and an opportunity to make someone else laugh in the telling. Point being, we are all going to get wet. When we do, can we turn a grumpy thing into a thing of joy?

Life is not perfect. Get comfortable with that and life will be much more enjoyable. Much of the unhappiness in my life has stemmed from this; it never measures up to the ideal I have been rehearsing. It never will. Maybe it’s time to have a proverbial march and hold up my “death to ideals” sign. Perhaps then I can live the life I actually have and stop comparing it to the ever elusive fantasy. I Long with a capital L for water. Beaches, white sand, sound of the waves. No humidity, no noise and no dogs pooping on my white sand. Maybe a hammock and someone bringing me a margarita. This is my ideal. My perfect life. We all have our perfect lives in our mind. How about we just get comfortable with life not being perfect? Then we will be free to enjoy what is. By no means am I saying, live without dreams. Live with dreams and desires, but realize that sometimes it’s easy to live IN a dream and miss the moment.

Simple things. What can I do daily that celebrates life? I have 3 things I do every single day. 1. I open the blinds in my apartment first thing. 2. morning coffee 3.- afternoon coffee. Who says it has to be big stuff? If it’s small and it brings a smile (or a caffeine jolt) to my life, then it’s valuable.

Stop comparing. They may appear to have the perfect family (I mean look at all those Facebook photos), but that’s called editing. You just don’t see their kids melting down and their spousal conflicts posted on every status update. Maybe people look at my updates and think, “gosh she is living the dream. Every time she posts a picture, she has a coffee cup in hand”. Hm…. maybe I AM living the dream.

Joy doesn’t come from getting everything you want. It comes from practicing gratitude for all you already have. There are gifts every day if I so choose to see them. It can be simple. I’m not a millionaire, but I can truly say that practicing gratitude has made the ordinary into the spectacular. Therefore, I am rich indeed. How do I personally practice gratitude? I write down on strips of index cards all the little things. (I will read through them on December 31 to remember the gifts I received throughout the year).

Eternal perspective. If we think it’s all about getting every desire fulfilled in the here and now, I hate to break it to you, but life will be one long disappointment. How often do things ever turn out exactly as hoped for? The thing is, God has put eternity into every heart. And here we are in an imperfect world that guarantees sorrow and setbacks at some point– trying to squeeze all the goody into here and now. Sometimes when the ache for a perfect world void of suffering overtakes me I stop and realize that I was made for that. Heaven is real and one day every dream will be realized. This helps me endure. I don’t escape by shutting out my earthly reality. I get busy living here and hopefully I bring a bit of goodness to others in the process.

Speaking of bringing goodness, did you know that it’s proven that our own joy is increased when we seek to bring joy to others? Let’s get really practical. Sharing a meal with a friend. Writing an encouraging text. Taking time to listen. Cleaning a toilet (hey, this is my life as a small business housekeeper). The ways to bring joy are limitless. The only thing required in all this is that you actually do it, not merely fantasize yourself doing it =) An intentional life is a life lived well. Think of the many times you have been the recipient of an act of kindness. Get in the game of giving. You won’t regret it.

By the way, I should mention that this wasn’t written from my private ocean front condo. The closest ocean is, what, atleast 5 hours from here. I have struggled with depression the last year and so I’m an unlikely source to be handing out tips on joy. That’s the beauty of it. An imperfect girl, learning to enjoy her life and inviting other imperfect people to embrace theirs as well.

Many people seemed to be running to the finish line of 2016, glad to get it over with and begin again today, January 1st of 2017. The elections, the celebrity fatalities, and just a ‘hard’ year. “Glad that’s over with.” Wake up with a new year and a new you.

Interestingly enough, today feels a lot like yesterday. It’s cold and cloudy and I’ll be drinking the same brand of Starbucks and still looking a lot like I did last year. A bit of grey and same weight around the muffin area.

I journalled for the first time today in 9 months. It made me laugh because the last entry I wrote was about how the doctor said my symptoms pointed to depression.

Depression. Wow, I certainly didn’t plan on that. 2016. And I definitely didn’t plan to struggle to the point of tears and deep pain. The pain of divorce hitting people I love. Close friends getting married. I didn’t plan on struggling with the changes in our friendship. I certainly didn’t plan on being unexcited about life, going on medication, and feeling such lack of motivation to get out there and connect and meet people. I did try, honest, but sometimes friendships don’t click even if you desire it.

So, 2016, you certainly threw a curve ball. I mean, could your timing be more off? Depression after finally having my own apartment and starting over in a new city? Come on!!! How inconvenient.

Surely I should flush you down the proverbial toilet and say “ha, done with you!” However, the unplanned events and life struggles also led to some pretty great things.

Cathi. My counselor. I took the needed step to start looking inward and talking about it. Instead of getting stuck in it. My first session she said to me, “I’m here to walk you through this.” Am I finished? Hardly. I’ve just begun. Am I still struggling with the issues previously mentioned? Very much! But I can say that I’m not alone. I took the first, very hard step toward health. I reached out.

Speaking of reaching out, I told a trusted few about the depression. Hours spent on FaceTime with my sister and sharing with friends actually helped. It helped me not to hide to the point of complete isolation. Yes, isolation has very much been the companion of 2016. But, not total isolation–thank God. Surprisingly, probably 4 out of 5 of those friends opened up their own stories of seasons where they battled depression. I never knew. Amazing how my vulnerability was the door to encouragement.

So, 2017, I look forward to you. I welcome you. You will bring struggles. But with it, surprises will come. Hopefully, friendship and connection will come as well. 2016, you aren’t evil and you didn’t ruin my life. I certainly don’t want to repeat you, but I also will not black list you and complain about your treacherous ways. For on the wings of your pain, you brought hope. And a new year.

Having recently moved and in transition, I have done a bit of church hopping. More like dragging than hopping, because I actually don’t like going to church on my own. Who does? Going with a friend is much more enjoyable. It’s the sitting by myself and the awkwardness of going in and out the doors alone. Pure agony. I’d rather go a day without my morning and afternoon coffee. It’s THAT stretching for me. But every good little Christian and even the sinners go to church on Easter. Joking aside, it would be nice to go somewhere where I’m known. Being known takes time and patience, with probably a lot of painful awkwardness. And the painful awkwardness of social interaction exhausts the little introvert.

I’ve narrowed it to down to three churches.

Church # 1:

I used to attend when I lived in the area years ago. It’s totally different (in a good way) now and most of those I really knew back then don’t live here now. But there’s an easter egg hunt after (tempting) where I can watch children race around while I stand next to young parents I don’t know. And free lunch. Hmm. Free lunch.

Church # 2:

I was invited to a korean, latino, (and white) service where there will be korean food (which I love) after. But in that church I really really don’t know anyone. Even more so than the first church. Except my mechanic and his wife. And mostly they just know that my car is a honda and that it needs a lot of tlc.

Church # 3:

I went to it a couple weeks ago and I did enjoy it. Except for sitting alone and all the social discomfort before and after the service. No free lunch there.

I’m thinking of narrowing it down to where there’s lunch.

Thinking about Jesus today, I realized something. He “gets” the singles. He was one, after all. Knowing our desire to feel connected and part of the fam. I guess I knew this, but I saw another beautiful facet of his heart. The desire for relationship and family. What better time to share your heart with the ones you love than when you have been resurrected three days after experiencing a most traumatizing agonizing death? His words to his “boys” would capture all the affection his overflowing heart–bringing healing to their broken memories as they’d recall their best friend crucified.

Announcement, announcement, I have an announcement! Tell my brothers (family lingo) that I’m going back home to my dad, who also happens to be your dad. (Liz Brown paraphrase of John 17:20)

He didn’t even mention the sacrifice that crushed sin and death. Yes, it happened and it happened big. He skipped right to the good news– A. Family. Had. Been. Born. We were now fully reconnected to his father, and our father, his God and our God. We are part of the tribe. We truly belong now. This is what was finished. No more disconnection. No longer orphans. We have a home. The party was planned, and we were invited.

I’m convinced he had always longed for a family. Who knows if he ever desired marriage, but he sure needed connection. He ran with his twelve “brothers”- eating, laughing, burping (probably)– doing life together. Not to mention his good friends Mary, Martha, and Lazarus. (Free lunch.) He may have been single and God, but he was also single and man. He needed close friends and community too. Let’s not over spiritualize him and take away his humanity in doing so. He would never know family in the conventional sense of the word. Wife and kids. But he would fulfill the desire of his heart and ours to be a part of a family. The family of God.

God places the lonely in a family. (Psalm 68:6)

So single, married, and happy or grumpy about it. It doesn’t matter. We all are designed for family life. A place where there’s plenty of room, free lunch, good friends, and best of all a Father who loves us and an older brother who paid for the event.

Hurriedness is like an epidemic. The American culture esteems faster, impulsive, and driven.

I’m admittedly somewhere between types A and B. I can never keep up with the movers and shakers, yet I don’t find myself quite as chill as the average hippy. I basically like to take my time. Decisions especially. I weigh out the options in all things. What groceries and couch cover to buy? Should I join e-harmony? (I have friends eager to pay for my membership if I would just give them the green light.)

Punctual for the most part. A commitment keeper, highly loyal, and my yes is yes. I’m just not quick to say yes, that’s all.

So don’t rush me. I should probably apologize for the times I have at times pushed others into decisions –yet would probably bite back if the pressure was reciprocated.

Oh, for the happy medium between the two extremes. The longer I live, I realize my inner pace waivers between the expectations within myself and the expectations I imagine (keyword: imagine) others have placed on me . A no-win dilemma, because it’s impossible to please everybody all the time.

My personal wiring isn’t programmed to climb the ever elusive ladder. Yet, the opposing Type B may judge me to be not free flowing enough to hang on the beach with the other B’s.

The irony is that when my outer pace is congruent with the inner one, I’m most productive. Not productive in a mechanical sense, but in the “me” sense. I’m most alive, creative, engaging—when my heart isn’t pressured, intimidated, or shamed into doing or being something that isn’t really aligned with my natural God-given rhythm.

This is not a cop out for living, merely permission to remain in the rest that is possible for the children of God. Permission is my compass. Am I giving myself the freedom to run my race at a speed where I can enjoy the view around me, or am I running so fast that I forget why I’m running in the first place? Ok, I hate running, so drinking coffee would be a better analogy. Am I downing the coffee while hurrying out the door? Or am I enjoying each sip?

Pressure and hurriedness can produce results for some. For me it produces stress, anxiety and gas in my colon (not to mention adrenal fatigue).

What it comes down to is that no one cares how fast I’m going or if I’m going in the right direction. We are all too preoccupied with stopping to capture the perfect “selfie” (with the perfect filter) to notice each other anyway.

It never fails that if there is a single over 30, her friends will try to set her up. Especially her married friends. I have friends in several states that have their eyes peeled just in case there may be a single guy left they can tell me about.

Katy is recently married (over 30) and extremely vivacious, gorgeous, and can sell ice to an eskimo. This was a snippet of a text conversation between us today. (Katy initiates the conversation. I’m in blue.)

*I removed his name for the sake of privacy

*Nathan is Katy’s husband.

I’m sure you are shocked I could include a photo of myself that looks like this!

In this space here, she included a photo of him.

She then went on to say he is game to come and meet me (he lives in another state) near where Katy lives and where I’ve already been planning to visit.

Katy is a woman of action and enthusiasm–I shouldn’t have been surprised that she was arranging a rendezvous.

Now, whether I meet up with him or not isn’t the point. Pictures say a thousand words and I hope he isn’t coming to meet the girl that’s edited (first photo) just to find that she can (gasp) look like the second photo! I adore Katy and trust her judgement, but who in the world can measure a man (or woman) by a photo. I had to laugh out loud when she asked what I thought of him. I had two photos to go on with “strong hilarious Christian” as the description.

Appearances (ie: seeing a photo and making a decision whether interested or not) can be deceiving. I could see a photo and instantly find myself attracted. So could he. Then find out there was much more to the person that did or didn’t cause me to want to proceed.

Charm is deceptive and beauty is fleeting.

What is on the inside, the heart? The longer I live, the more my “Mr. Darcy” changes. Attributes like kindness, humility and willingness to communicate and endure through trial–trustworthiness . Character traits that stand the test of time. These are beautiful. A man who loves Jesus wholeheartedly (and imperfectly)-nothing is more appealing. I think of many guys I’ve been interested in over the years. Few had these attributes, but didn’t lack in looks. (And the few that had the attributes went on to marry.)

I’m thankful and entertained that my friends are looking out for me and sending me crazy texts and emails alerting me that “they are still out there”. And I’m even more thankful that God has been showing me that what is unshaking and reliable are the qualities of the heart. These can never be airbrushed.

Thank goodness it’s not true, but there are times I confess to moments of panic that I will be! I have a handful of girlfriends who are in their 30’s and 40’s still single and believing God for their husband. But the reality is that one of these days the circle will get smaller.

There can be a false sense of security in not being the “only one” left in the single’s club. As long as I am not alone in my “condition”, I can bear the waiting a little more tolerably. Before you stone me for desperation or selfishness, know this. Any single over 30 has probably contemplated the same. In all honesty, I want my friends to come into the promises of God, just as I want to as well. This includes the big M. Marriage. But vulnerability sneaks in when I begin to see promises fulfilled in a good friend’s life. What a joy to choose the celebration road with her instead of anger and envy produced from my own continual wait. (Keyword here is “choose”. Envy is easy. It takes courage and trust in God’s goodness to choose joy at another’s happiness.)

The fear of being alone in singleness has been real. Being a few years from 40, to have some friends in the same boat is very comforting. Supportive. We have fought the same battles—to trust God, to not settle, to allow the process to cultivate hope instead of cynicism and entitlement.

I heard it said recently that when someone enters into a promise that is similar to one you are believing for, let it produce faith for your own promise instead of discouragement that it hasn’t yet manifested in your own life.

So today as I’m particularly aware of my desire for companionship, someone to enjoy life with- I celebrate that the circle is getting smaller. For one day others will have the same joy of celebrating my absence in the circle.

Our stories carry a beauty and dignity worth pausing to share. Patricia’s has so impacted me these last few months, I am a ready writer compelled to tell it.

We met last summer at a dinner party, and then reconnected in December. The first time I came to her house, we drove to the closest restaurant open after 10 pm. Waffle House. Chatting late into the night, she was eager to describe growing up in the Philipines, employment overseas, her journey to America as an adult, and finding Jesus in the midst of it all. She was open and candid. Quick to admit her mistakes, but also exude gratitude for all the opportunities she had been handed. I realized I was in the midst of greatness disguised as an adorable nearly 5 foot Filipino lady.

I am so grateful she opened her home for me to stay on weekends while I attended a discipleship training school. Right from the get go, I was encouraged to make her home my home. Enjoy. Relax.

She sees me as a missionary and hopes I’m the first of more to be hosted. Her desire to serve the Lord with the blessings she has been given humbles me. I want more of this in my life. I wonder if she’s aware of how much Jesus already flows through her in the way she loves and honors others through hospitality and friendship.

We share a mutual craving of beauty. She opens the blinds on sunny days, and urges me to reduce my speed in the car when passing her favorite tree. On my birthday, we ventured to her favorite park. What feasts for the eyes as we took in the horizon (comfortably, from the bench) and rejoiced in the others there appreciating God’s gift of a beautiful day.

How lovely are your dwelling places…(Psalm 84:1, paraphrase)

Patricia isn’t a glutton for beauty. She is satisfied only when she can partake and then offer it.

Recently, her joy has been unbounded by the changes brought on by Spring. “Liz, come and look!” Something else is in bloom. Delighting in the smallest of details, she puts a fresh comforter on the day bed–and then steps back to admire and enjoy her Spring decor.

Either bitterness or joy is produced from hardship. She has taken the path of joy. Because the suffering has been deep, the wells of joy seem to be dug deeper still. Upon meeting her, one would think her life has been a fairy tale.

Her current struggle is real. Many would have lost heart and hope if they were in her shoes. I asked her one day, “Miss Patricia, what is it that you desire? How do you want me to pray for you?” Her response was weighty, her eyes lit up with zeal. “I want to live! I want to enjoy!” Her passion to live in the face of this personal mountain awakens my soul for the same. Wonder is evoked in me. The tiniest, seemingly insignificant things leave her awed. And she always shares her discoveries with me. She doesn’t know the language of sarcasm or cynicism. “Adult” sophistication has nothing in her. The innocence leaves me quieted, marking me with desire for childlikeness.

Hugs are offered readily. Laughs are spontaneous. I really really love her laugh. If it was a song, I’d leave it on repeat.

She is teaching me. Slow down. Enjoy the moment. It dances past and is gone.

“Wide-eyed and mystified, may we be just like a child. Staring at the beauty of our King. May we never lose our wonder.”

Never fails. On the brink of something good–something new—the accusations begin. It’s pretty amusing and predictable. In my history walking with God, I’ve noticed the pattern. I say “yes” and get ready to step in. Enter in the lying taunts.

In attempt to get me to run.

To hide.

To become intimidation’s slave.

To try to prove my innocence.

It’s subtle enough to stop me in my tracks and ponder the indictment. A total distraction. Never does he tell me I’m going to hell or that I don’t love God. That would be too blatant. But it’s measured out in just the right proportions to make me feel a bit of shame and to hold back my voice. Tempting me to analyze the motives of my heart or question my sincerity.

Last year, right before I spoke on the Father’s love, I had an accusation via email. The person accused me of hiding behind this whole “Father’s love thing”. She said it was a crutch. She thought she was being helpful to me, but I heard the enemy’s taunting behind her words. Funny enough, it produced the opposite effect. It confirmed that this “Father’s love thing” really is my life (she must have been listening) and not only is it a crutch. I’d say it’s a full body cast holding my very frame together =) And then,

I heard the Lord say clearly to my heart:
Do not argue with the accuser. Silence him!

We are to submit to God and then RESIST the devil. Don’t entertain or attempt to argue with his lies. He is a master manipulator and we will eventually begin to agree with his lies over us, eroding our confidence in the blood of Jesus and his righteousness in us.

In the past few days there have been very precise attempts to get me to doubt God’s promises or even my own sincerity of heart.

I am running this race and refuse to quit! There’s a prize to be had so I am fixing my eyes on Jesus. I’m throwing off the weights the enemy would want to shoulder me with and trusting the lover of my soul.

For the blessing of the Father rides on the wings of accusation.

So how did it end up? After I was accused about my “crutch”? Well, Father was good and poured out his love on all those in the room. And I got to share about silencing the voice of the accuser. He doesn’t mean to, but our accuser ends up pointing out the area God is about to move in next. So, thank you very much for revealing where God is about to move—oh, and by the way– shut your mouth. I’m not listening!

Kezara, my friend’s two-year-old daughter, has taught me some lessons I will forever be drawing from. This precious girl sees me through a lens of love that I can’t wrap my mind around. I haven’t tried to win her heart; I just have it. When I visit, she pours love out on me. Sometimes, by taking hold of one of my legs and squeezing with all her might. One day she sat on my lap facing me. Staring into my eyes, she took her little hands and put one on each of my cheeks and then leaned forward and hugged me. Then she sat back and repeated this several times.

Spotting me en route to the coffee pot first thing in the morning, she yells “Lizzy’s awake!” and I’m greeted with great enthusiasm. One particular morning I was in the bathroom, so she knocked until I let her know I was going potty. Then, I heard the pitter patter of running feet (hers) as she raced to the kitchen. She excitedly announced to her parents, “Lizzy’s going potty! Lizzy’s going potty!” Shouts of “hooraaaaaay!” (with a bit of laughter) ensued from my friends.

Her brilliant two-year-old mind was celebrating my success in potty training and she was not shy in doing so. If I made a smoothie for breakfast, she’d rejoice that Lizzy was making a smoothie. I started feeling pretty amazing about myself (ha ha) and wondered what else she would “catch” me doing and then celebrate it.

Father began to speak to me and teach me more of his nature, through the actions of a child.

The steps of good men are directed by the Lord. He delights in each step they take.

This verse has taken on new life. Think about this: when children are small, every “step” towards growth is celebrated. A child’s first step, first laugh, first word…all of it is made a big deal of. Rightly so.

My Father is no different towards me. He sees every step I take. Every time I do something I’m afraid to do. Each moment I turn my heart to him. Every. Little. Step. In fact, not only does he see and affirm me continually, he doesn’t despise the areas I need to grow in.

We get older, but we never outgrow our need for encouragement. To be celebrated. To be told “I’m proud of you”. “I see your heart and it is beautiful.” “Good job”. “You’ve been sober for 60 days! I know that had to be hard.” “I see how you are contributing around the house, it matters and I appreciate it.” The examples are endless, but you get the idea.

At times I have viewed myself through shame and how far I still need to go, but he sees how far I’ve come. No need to hang my head. I can look at him, confident of his full approval and acceptance.

Those who look to him are radiant, their faces are never covered with shame.

We don’t have to be ashamed when we look at him, because his eyes aren’t seeing our flaws. They are seeing our beauty.

These last couple weeks have so impacted me as I’ve pondered this. It’s affecting how I view others. Breaking perfectionism, so instead of focusing on what others haven’t done or should be doing, I’m LOOKING for ways to catch others doing something I can celebrate.

When I can celebrate my own little steps and know my Father is too, I surely have space in my heart to extend this reality to others.. Simple, but powerful.

For he knows we aren’t perfect. God is mindful of our frame. He has compassion on our humanity, mingled with plenty of affirmation. If we can only allow ourselves to see and then receive this.

I can’t wait to be with Kezara again. She sees clearly, and challenges me to the core. The Kingdom really does belong to the childlike. And as I wrap this post up I hear the Father (with Kezara’s voice) saying, “Lizzy wrote a post!” =)

I have a promise from the Father. Everything I walk through can become the weapon in my hand to release others into that same freedom. This is my joy and has been a compass for my heart when it needs navigating.

Recent events have found me gasping for hope, like someone gasps for air in a near drowning experience. Hopes “seem” to have been dashed. It has been a battle. And it’s not the first time. Life has its share of setbacks, disappointments and unfulfilled desires. Linger in that place too long, though, and hopelessness has a fertile ground to grow.

No! With great force my heart stands up against this intruder!

Isaiah 35 repeatedly speaks of water coming to replenish and refresh the dry places. Life from barrenness. In essence, hope coming out of brokenness. Hope can even create something out of our nothings.

And then it says “there (in the desert) the Lord will display his glory, the splendor of our God.” IN THOSE VERY PLACES where we thirst God will reveal himself.

This is good news indeed for the waiting heart!

Next verse:

With THIS news, strengthen those who have tired hands, and encourage those who have weak knees.

Are you familiar with this battle? Are you needing to be strengthened in your spirit to not lose heart? You aren’t alone. We are in this together. We all need to be encouraged from time to time. That’s why I am writing this post for my own heart. I am prophesying life. I declare that my Father is trustworthy, despite my limited vision.

Hope, rise up! I know I will see God’s goodness. I already have, many many times. Shaking off unbelief and sorrow, I refuse to think that my current dilemmas have the last word. Or that he will not fulfill the promises he has given me. He is limitless and I belong in a kingdom where goodness and mercy will pursue me every day of my life.